


Unwanted Company

by Shockcakes



Category: Furry (Fandom), Original Work
Genre: Demon Bullying, Dominance, F/M, Femdom, Mating Press, Vaginal Fingering, all he wanted was some bat pussy, poor guy can't catch a break
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-05
Updated: 2018-09-05
Packaged: 2019-07-07 02:39:08
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,844
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15899220
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Shockcakes/pseuds/Shockcakes
Summary: And today we learn exactly why no one makes deals with witches





	Unwanted Company

**Author's Note:**

> Anyway here's more of my original nonsense.

This wasn’t supposed to happen.

Morgana was confident – _certain_ – that this was the correct incantation. She memorized the ingredients to a tee. Hells, she even perfected it with additions of her own. The end result, however, had been different this time:

“Where. Is. My. _Portal_.”

Morgana’s ears twitched in annoyance. Hell’s Bazaar only opened once every century. It was there that one could find only the rarest of artifacts and ingredients. Orc’s blood, Dragonborn scales, Drow mana. If it was magic, it was at Hell’s Bazaar. And getting there was a chore in every sense of the word. So why wasn’t there a portal in the middle of her summoning circle? And most importantly – 

“Who in the _literal_ Hells are you?!” Morgana demanded of her current visitor.

The stranger scoffed, sitting cross-legged in the middle of Morgana’s quarters. He held his chin on his palm, seemingly nonchalant. “I could say the same thing about you, _witch_.”

Immediately, Morgana noted the creature’s red skin and wild white hair. His horns were long and jagged, one adorned with all manner of fancy golden circlets. Somehow despite sitting down, his tall figure allowed his piercing yellow eyes to meet her’s. His mouth was hardly a mouth. More of a reptilian maw of sharp teeth molded to seem like a mouth, making any smile he gave seem more like a sinister grin.

His all-black garb stood out from the vibrant color of his skin and hair. seemingly flaunting some sort of high status. A black leather top exposed his lean crimson arms and accentuated a fairly toned chest. Loose leather pants hung low from the creature’s waist, barely held up by a silver belt with a skull motif. His devilish, whip-like tail twisted and twitched in irritation within the boundary of the summoning circle. There was an air of pretentiousness resonating from the creature’s presence that switched on Morgana’s immediate “I want to deck him in the face” reflex. Fortunately, she decided to steel herself.

 _Demon_ , she thought.

He yawned, obviously bored.

“Is this some kind of joke? This spell was supposed to summon a portal to _Hell’s Bazaar_.” Morgana ordered in frustration.

The demon looked at her quizzically. “Hell’s Bazaar? Didn’t you hear? Portal’s down this century.”

Morgana’s ears flopped. “Wh…what?” She squeaked in utter mortification. “What do you mean the portal’s down?!”

The demon nonchalantly scratched his ear. “Eeeyup. Ol’ Saint Magnus just didn’t have enough in him to make a new portal. Poor bastard’s soul lit up like a vampire in a heatwave.” He snickered impishly.

The witch remained in disbelief. She groaned loudly before falling to her knees in utter misery. All of her plans for future potions and spells to sell. Dashed. As good as the ash that useless priest now was. Now, what was she to do? She needed those scarce ingredients for her more expensive potions. How was she going to rake in customers now?

“Althoooough…”

Her head immediately shot up. Her brow furrowed as devil now stood up, his imposing visage now standing a foot taller than her. 

“I suppose I _could_ grant you passage,” he smiled almost sinisterly, baring his razor-sharp teeth into a skeevy grin. “That is _if_ you do me a tiny favor.”

Morgana’s face deadpanned. “What’s the catch?” She knew he had one. All the demons did. Tiny little oversights that the little pests use to bite you in the ass.

The demon grinned puckishly. “Well, I assure you miss-“

“Morgana.”

“-Morgana, that there is no catch. Just a quick favor, then I send you on your way!”

Morgana crossed her arms. “ _Well, I assure you_ mister-“

“Bael, my good witch.”

“Right, because _that_ sounds trustworthy.”

Bael’s grin faltered somewhat as his eyebrow twitched in irritation. “Quite the sharp tongue you have, Miss Morgana.” He remarked dryly.

“Got it from a swordmage.”

“Hmm…quite.” Bael cocked his head, giving her an earnest beam. “I assure you miss Morgana, I _never_ go back on my word. I’ll even prove it to you!”

With a mere snap of his fingers, reality shifted around them. Morgana was no longer in the cooled closed space of her shop. The air around her burned with the smell of ash and brimstone. No longer was the ground beneath her wood, instead now solid rock, hot to the touch of her feet. She heard the fervid calls of sellers and shopkeepers attracting her with offers that the mortal realm failed to tantalize her with.

_“Void crystals! Get’cher void crystals here!”_

_“Forty-two for one deal on hellhound teeth!”_

_“We got mermaid tails! Get ‘em while they’re fresh!”_

Morgana’s ears twitched excitedly. Already, she could see the myriad of potions and brews she could sell from these exclusive ingredients. Her legs moved out of their own accord, magnetically attracted to the nearest sale on chimera venom.

Then her face collided against her wall.

The bat’s eyes opened, finding herself back in her empty potion shop with her semi-uninvited guest. Her expression disintegrated to an exhausted scowl.

“ _What._ Do you. want?”

Bael grinned. “I’ve been having issues with a certain… _itch_ that’s been plaguing me for a while now.”

Morgana raised an eyebrow. “You can get a backscratcher real cheap at the pawn shop next door.” She replied through gritted teeth.

“Not _that_ kind of itch.”

“Whorehouse is just after that.”

“…I don’t believe that would quite work either.”

“Really? Because I know a pole dancer there that really earns her weight in gold co-“

Bael interrupted with an impatient cough. “I see you don’t quite understand the details of what I’m asking of you.”

“You’re looking to whore me out like some kind of common streetwalker?” Morgana deadpanned.

“Eh, don’t think of it like that. Look at it as more of you performing a… _service_. One that can’t exactly be fulfilled by _average_ mortals, no matter how-“ his eyes gave Morgana’s body a quick look over, admiring the soft looking fullness of her curves, “-well endowed they may be.” The gangly demon stood from the summoning circle, striding towards her with his back hunched over just to make eye contact. “A service that only certain individuals touched by the black hand of sorcery can perform.”

“Literally nothing you’ve said has proven me wrong.”

He glared at her in frustration, most definitely suppressing every urge he had to burn her sharp, _swordmage_ tongue from her mouth. Morgana could tell – and she loved every second of it. She may have been currently at his mercy but there was no sense in letting him be smug about it.

“All I ask is for one session. No tricks, no games, and you walk away with a portal to the bazaar.” He negotiated, returning his to his jovial attitude. “I’ll even throw in a silver coin for your trouble.”

“Still proving my point.”

“ _Do you want to go to the bazaar or not_?” Flames burned from the sides of Bael’s maw, warring with the air of smugness radiating from the bat.

Morgana contemplated. Her options seemed limited as the bazaar only lasted for so long. This demon was silver-tongued, to say the least. He made the prospect of sex seem like such a trivial thing to offer. She never did trust them. They’d make claim to step into a church if it forwarded any ulterior motive they had. Their mouths were made silver-tongued at birth.

On the other hand, there was a deal on kelpie hoofs that was _calling her name_.

“One session?” Morgana felt compelled to confirm.

Reptilian teeth were flashed in front of her. Bael was no doubt ecstatic that he managed to fish out his prey. “One session.” A pulsating fiery aura surrounded his palm as he extended it to her. Flames trailed from his burning eyes as his seemingly innocent countenance quickly converted into a sinister visage. “And you have my word that I’ll send you on your way. Oh, and ah,” His visage turned much more demonic. Pyres of flame burned from his mouth.

“ ** _No takebacks_**.”

The witch eyed the obvious red flag presented to her. Her gaze screamed entirely of impatience for theatrics. She’d seen all of them – Hells, she _perfected_ them.

“Set more shit on fire why don’t you?” Her hand extended, now clutched by the demon’s claw. Morgana rolled her eyes. “ _Surely_ , you could make this look even more sketchy.”

Bael failed to fall for her heckles this time. A snap of his fingers summoned a spawn of flame, so cleverly molded in the shape of an imp, which dangled her aloft in the air by her cloak. Morgana eyed the fire imp with a silent promise to suffocate it’s flame slowly and agonizingly as possible should her favorite violet cape be singed.

She was set down on a table Bael’s tail snaked over – all while she diligently checked her cloak for any unwanted burns. “How shall we begin, _my dear_?” His face inched close with her’s, forcing her focus towards his half-lidded eyes. Morgana just as easily responded with a finger keeping his snout at arm’s length.

“Save the ‘my darling’ nonsense for someone who actually gives a crap and just get on with it.” She deadpanned.

Bael’s charming grin crumbled. “You don’t have a romantic bone in your body, you know that?”

“Yeah, I sold them for the swordmage tongue. Those things don’t come cheap.”

Bael may have looked at her incredulously but she really wasn’t joking.

“Right…well then!” A demonic hand found it’s way to the hem of Morgana’s cherished robes. Her glare met his, screaming of every heinous atrocity she could get away with should he even _think_ of tearing it off.

How fortunate for him that he didn’t. A simple tug revealed the witch’s round, perky breasts. Bael almost immediately salivated over them. “Which deity did you get _these_ from?”

“Well actually-“

“Don’t answer that.”

She rolled her eyes, deflated. How rude. There was an admittedly interesting story behind her sizable bosom.

A demonic tongue snaked across her dark fur, licking along the curvature of her mound. Bael’s eyes glanced upward, expecting to meet her moaning expression, decorated with pleasured shivers.

“Enjoying yourself there?”

Her annoyed glare shot him down in seconds.

 _No_ , he wanted to answer but pride luckily stopped him before doing so. Magical prowess aside, he was too proud to let some mortal overshadow him. He just needed a little bit of _finesse._

His hands found the sides of Morgana’s waist, further disrobing her somewhat pudgy stomach. The demon continued to lap and suck on her delicate flesh. His tongue slid and twisted her swollen nipple, teasing it in recurrent movements.

She tasted…mixed. A unique taste that he couldn’t pinpoint as it changed with each part of her body that he explored. Perhaps a result of the numerous alchemical mixes she undoubtedly exposed herself to. As he continued to suckle, his other arm focused on her untouched breast, roughly kneading it. Her body was addicting – even to one such as him – constantly leaving him desiring to squeeze her each time his hand removed from the witch’s pillowy softness. By now, she should be jelly. She should have been lying on the table like a panting bitch in heat. She should’ve been-

“ _Yaaaawwn,_ ”

-jaded…apparently.

Bael’s scowl grew even more irate and flustered. “Oh I’m sorry,” the demon spat, “am I _boring_ you?”

Morgana’s poker face refused to dissolve even as she was half naked getting her tits sucked by a demon. “Yeah. Pretty much.”

Bael almost looked hurt (he was but she didn’t need to know that). “Well then!” His grin turned sly and cunning. “I didn’t think I’d have to use it but I believe I have something that might _change_ that.”

For a solid minute, Morgana reached an emotional state she hadn’t felt in years. The planets aligned into place, granting whatever divine celestial being watching over her the ability to create a cataclysmic event that the world would see only generations at a time.

Morgana smiled.

“It’s not the portal to the bazaar.”

And it left her just as quickly. In retrospect, she should’ve seen that coming. “Oh… _joy_.”

Bael grumbled under his breath. “ _Oh, I’ll show you joy, you apathetic broom-flying little rodent._ “

With little warning, a pair of fingers plunged into Morgana’s robes. Bael ventured further and further until he reached a faintly damp spot just at what he assumed to be her underwear. Despite her uninterested stare directed at his face, he grinned eagerly.

Unchaste fingers slid into her. His demonic hand burned with a sinister crimson glow as his digits lingered inside of Morgana’s opening. Bael watched, a noticeable gleam of pride in his eyes as the witch’s eyes widened, breaking the stalwart boredom that her face portrayed. He immediately went to work stimulating her inner walls, pushing his fingers back and forth into her folds.

This technique never failed him. Bael would always recount the countless women who fell prey to his magic, breaking any sort of mental fortitude its victim held. Seeing them reduced to whimpering pups, their faces desperate and wanting more, never failed to boost his ego. However, none of those instances will compare to the moment that he brings this self-contented wench to her kn-

“Hm.”

 _Beat_.

“…Is…is that it?”

Bael frowned, his tail flicking in surprise. Rather than the pleasured moaning form he would garner on a regular basis, he was met with a short-lived glance of surprise immediately followed by a raised eyebrow of disappointment. The demon all but froze in utter disbelief. “What do you mean ‘is that it’??”

Morgana rolled her eyes. “Really? You go on a tangent about your ‘ungodly libido’ and yet all you have to offer is cheap tricks?” She scoffed as Bael attempted to stutter a response. Aggravation and embarrassment simmered at the demon’s core. “Well then I suppose for the sake of getting this little charade over with, _I’ll_ have to step in.”

A chill ran down his spine just before his entire world was flipped upside down with enough speed to make his head spin. As the stars in his eyes finally dispelled, Bael found himself staring at the ceiling, his “hostess” now straddling his lap upon the table. She looked down at him with her chin tilted, the very same bored eyes and uninterested expression persisting even now. Morgana was now entirely naked now except for the cape she so possessively valued along with a wide-brimmed witch’s hat. In her hand was what looked to be a black concoction confined to a test tube.

She unceremoniously poured the mixture onto the table, not bothering to watch as it organically slithered to the demon’s wrists. The black slime seized his arms, leading them both above his head and effectively binding them in its inky texture.

“W-what the hells?!” Bael shouted in surprise. “I never agreed to this!”

“You said ‘one session’.” Her fangs bared into a twisted grin, almost matching the same one Bael held just moments prior. “And I don’t seem to recall you explaining _how_ this itch of yours was going to be satisfied.”

The demon’s eyes widened the size of dinner plates. He was met with the most terrifying visage, a feeble squeak manage to slip past his muzzle.

“… _Mommy_.”

Another vial of mysterious liquid appeared in Morgana’s hand, it’s vibrant green texture seeming all the more unsettling. The tube’s contents were then poured onto Bael’s chest, immediately triggering a sizzling noise. He experienced a brief moment of relief as he thought for sure she had poured acid directly onto him. Killing demonic entities took far more substantial effort than crass methods such as acid. However, he quickly learned that wasn’t her intention. It was worse.

A particularly unmanly scream escaped from Bael’s throat. “MY _CLOTHES_!!”

“Oh get over it, you big baby.” Morgana scoffed. His shot daggers as he mumbled something under his breath about how much of a fortune they costed him. Seeing him squirm was a small victory she was able to relish after all the time she was forced to waste. Her gaze aimed downs towards his unawakened shaft.

Bael awaited the witch’s next move with a distinct fear, only to be surprised as she stepped off of him, leaving the demon pinned to the table. Bael didn’t want to admit that relieved him. “W-what? Finally decided to go back on our deal, huh?”

Morgana hummed dismissively. “I would,” she sifted through ingredients on her shelf until she found a particular tool that widened her grin, “but I have to admit, I’m actually having fun now.” Bael’s blood ran cold as he laid eyes on the instrument pointed in his direction – none other than a wooden wand. “Besides, doesn’t a handshake mean _neither_ party can go back on their word?”

Morgana read just about each phase of grief the demon suffered through from his face alone. His quest to Acceptance, however, was stopped short at bargaining. A single wave of her wand levitated both of his legs against his will. The bat sauntered over with an eager beam. The annoyance of being denied entry to Hell’s Bazaar had been getting to her. Now at least, she’ll have gotten some retribution out of it.

She scrutinized his semi-hardened cock with a raised eyebrow. She briefly maintained eye contact before the witch held up her wand. Bael’s eyes shut tight as he prepared for the inevitable. A violent surge of mana coursed through the demon’s abdomen. By the time his eyes opened, he was locked into this humiliating display now with a newly awakened erection as his centerpiece.

Callous hands seized both of his legs. The terrifying figure before him squatted on the table, forcing him into a position he quickly grew to despise. He was entirely helpless before her, each of his limbs restricted and kept at her mercy with the exception of his tail which could only spasm in fear for what the possible pose could foreshadow.

Her lower folds aligned with the tip of his awaiting member. Tentative drips of arousal leaked from her entrance. Morgana _loved_ being in control. The temptations of sex had little sway over her but the few times she gave in to her baser desires were when she held final say in the pace of the ordeal.

“This next part might sting a bit.”

Bael raised an eyebrow. “What?” Sex held a multitude of feelings for him. Walls clenching, the slapping of flesh, and the like yet stinging didn’t at all seem to register in any of his memories. “Why?”

The witch’s answer came in the form of a sudden forceful push, enveloping Bael’s shaft in one swift motion. Air was knocked directly from whatever part of his demonic physiology was allowing him to breathe.

“ _W-What…the fuck…was that?_ ” His voice squeaked to a strained whimper. This new sensation was entirely foreign. The witch’s inner walls clenched him beyond any other previous mate did. “ _Sweet Satan’s FIERY ASSHOLE, MY COCK IS MELTING._ ”

“Oh, please.” Morgana’s hand presented him a strange gesture. A glowing mark materialized upon her dark fur, appearing just below her stomach, one that Bael was able to recognize immediately. “What idiot doesn’t cast a sanctification spell when encountering a demon?”

“…Oh, you’ve got to be kidding me.”

Suddenly the pieces fell into place. It all made sense! Her absence of lust, the resistance to his magic, the lack of any reaction. He wasn’t losing his touch! It was really just a matter of him dealing with an experienced professional!

…Which still meant he was fucked.

Literally.

Claustrophobic walls clutched his poor shaft to the point that he was almost suffocating. His eyes glanced up at Morgana, realizing that she wasn’t doing anything, not even manually squeezing him. She merely sat atop him, holding his legs in this shameless position while smugly looking down at the demon at her mercy.

She slid off of him slowly and agonizingly, stopping just at his tip. Bael’s face strained through every second of it. There was a moment of pause, a frustratedly sharp breath being the only break of silence between their staredown. There was a sudden squeeze of his ankles as he was forcefully shoved back inside of her, letting a sharp, labored gasp fill the room.

“Oh, I’m sorry,” Morgana feigned a sympathetic smile, “am I being too _rough_?” Bael shot her a sour frown. She rode him, slowly then forcefully, milking his cock efficiently with sadistic glee. There was no passion in her movements. No love, little care, perhaps a bit of arousal. In essence, the witch cared only for well-deserved retribution. She was going to get her trip to Hell’s Bazaar even if she had to fuck this demon’s brains out to do so.

She released Bael’s legs, now opting to support herself on the table. There was nothing in her view but his shameful expression, eyes dazed and tongue slighting hanging from his muzzle. Her mounds rubbed up against his almost reptilian chest. Hips bounced on his crotch with every intention to drag him closer and closer to his climax.

Sex appeal wasn’t Morgana’s strongest suit but she held enough skill to get what she wanted. She sensually dragged her tongue along his chest.

 _Ugh. Brimstone_.

Her hands snaked to his backside, curiously kneading and squeezing it. She briefly admired how surprisingly soft the flesh was compared to his leathery skin. Their bodies were pulled closer, forcing Bael even further into the tightness of her entrance. The body convulsions were a dead giveaway, he was _close._

With a dominant smirk, Morgana grabbed a handful of his wild white hair, forcing his lust-addled gaze to meet her own.

“Now then,” she teasingly whispered, “about that portal…”

Amidst the tightness and the squeezing, Bael opened his mouth to retort, yet found himself unable to do so. An intense feeling – somehow stronger than the one he was currently subjected to – washed over him. His eyes widened, now seemingly filled with a sense of terror. He just barely managed to squeak out an omen of an incoming cataclysm.

“ ** _Oh no_** …”

Morgana raised an eyebrow. It should’ve been easy to assume that his dread was aimed at her triumph over him, yet she could tell that was far from the case. The witch detected a peculiar spike in magical power in her shop, far more potent than her own and seemingly coming from…below them?

There was a blinding flash of purple emanating from the floor, the size spanning the entire table they were perched on. They glanced at each other for a moment, his terrified frown meeting her confusion. With seemingly no resistance between then, gravity pulled the two into the unknown depths.

The impact wasn’t what surprised her, nor was the fact that they landed with enough force to break the table in two. As they hit the unknown ground beneath them, Morgana was hit with possibly the most explosive orgasm she ever experienced. She bolted upright in an unholy combination of shock and pleasure. It was as if liquid fire shot directly into her soul. The consecration spell wavered. The climax wasn’t sufficient to break it, but it faltered _just_ enough to feel the smallest fraction ecstasy that the demon’s organ was capable of.

And she loved it.

It was an infinitesimal moment of unfiltered sexual clarity. A mere millisecond of sheer bliss that defied understanding and was welcomed lovingly. It spurred the long lost and suppressed urges of the temptations of the flesh. The world – or whatever location this was – faded to black and she couldn’t care any less about her predicament. Other desires dulled to almost nothingness. Morgana forgot entirely the events that played in motion up until this point. She forgot why she was even doing this. Only that it was single-handedly the greatest sensation that nothing of this world or beyond could match.

Then it was over.

And she felt gross.

“…Welp. That was…a thing.” Her disgruntled disposition returned, seemingly rid of any sort of lewd enticements she experienced prior. Good riddance, she thought. Now she could focus her attention on real concerns. Her hands were immediately at the stunned demon’s neck. “Alright you flaming speck of coal waste, where the hells is my-“ the witch’s words hitched in her mouth as her eyes were no longer in their haze blinded state.

The first thing she noticed was that everything was on fire. The expanse of the area around her was littered with flames and lava, the centerpiece of it all being a throne, standing larger than her entire shop. The witch’s eye was now immediately caught by the throne’s owner.

“-portal...”

She was a demon first and foremost; her regal white hair much longer and more elegant than Bael’s. Her appearance was reptilian though far more monstrous. Each of her _four_ eyes peered through Morgana’s very soul. Her horns were adorned with priceless golden accessories, some dating back centuries the witch noted. The demon’s stature was gigantic, no doubt able to crush the two of them with her pinky finger. Even her figure screamed dominance with well-endowed curves decorating and accentuating her body effortlessly. Fire breathed from both her nostrils and muzzle as she eyed the witch. “ ** _Baelousphous…_** ” The demon lady’s voice boomed across the fiery domain.

Bael immediately jolted awake, any and all exhaustion completely gone. “Y-Yes mother?”

“Mother?” For a brief moment, Morgana drew a blank before realizing the context of her situation:

Naked.

Dick still inserted in her.

Choking out the son in question.

“Um…I can explain?” Fur stood on end. Her face went pale as a multitude of realizations hit her all at once, one of them being the revelation of whom she was now pounding the back of her mind. The Butcher of Souls, Killer of Wills, The Red Slaughter, 7th Empress of the Breaches of the Hells: Madame Gorgolith.

Gruesome, flesh-rending death stared Morgana directly in the eye. Patience was utterly absent from her face. Her rage was what caused the Underworld’s flames to burn, signified agony, meant a horrid existence even in the afterlife. Gorgolith’s gigantic palm reached for her. Morgana shut her eyes and braced herself for the inevitable.

…Only to be gently hefted by tip of her cape. Morgana slid off of Bael with an embarrassingly loud squelch, causing her to blush as she was placed on the armrest of the Empress’s throne. Bael, on the other hand, was lifted by his tail, her arm noticeably more clenched. She held the unequivocally and humiliatingly naked demon to her face, her expression not even in the same universe as ‘pleased’.

“ ** _I thought I instructed you to maintain the portal…_** ”

“I was!” Bael replied a bit too quickly. “R-really! I was!”

“ ** _Oh?_** ” The right side of Gorgolith’s eyebrows raised. “ ** _And I’m expected to believe that you were whisked away from your duties?_** ”

Morgana watched the confrontation awkwardly. A part of her mind felt sorry for him as he meekly whimpered in her imposing presence.

A small part.

“ ** _This behavior is unfitting and shameful for a prince!_** ” She boomed.

Her focus then turned to Morgana, instantly causing her to freeze solid. Again, the witch was lifted from her cape, the brim of her witch’s hat doing little to shield her face from the demoness’s burning stare. Morgana stayed quiet. What could she even say? ‘ _I’m sorry for thoroughly and violently throwing myself onto your son_ ’?

“ ** _What is your name, witch?_** ”

The lump in her throat finally went down. “M-Morgana…your highness?”

“ ** _…I formally apologize for my son’s behavior, Morgana._** ”

What.

“What?”

“ ** _Baelousphorous has a persistent habit of swaying mortal females when he_ should _be performing his given duties. I instructed him to take over for Saint Magnus after informing him of his retirement,_** ” Gorolith glared firmly at her son. “ ** _Tell me, did he insist on you ‘scratching an itch that only those touched by the black hand of magic can’?_** ”

Morgana’s brows furrowed as she tentatively glanced at Bael, attempting to smile in embarrassment. “Yeah…he _did_.”

“ ** _As I thought,_** ” The Empress huffed, puffs of hellfire shooting from her nose. “ ** _I’m pleased that you were able to put my foolish son in his place, Morgana. Is there any way I can repay you for your services?_** ”

“Well…”

\--

The surly goblin merchant eyed the parchment in the witch’s hand.

“Yep, dat’s gen-u-ine VIP status awright.”

Morgana tittered like those snobby upper-class tightwads she made fun of. She’d earned it. “Why thank you, good sir.”

“How’dya get a hold’ve one of dese? Worth more than a soul, dese tings.”

“Oh, I have my sources…”

The goblin eyed Morgana up and down. “Is one o’ da Empress’s kids one o’ dem ‘sources’?”

Her eyes popped out of her skull as she looked downwards, picking up on the one detail she forgot to ask of Gorgolith before requesting entry to the Bazaar:

She was naked.

With leftover demon spooge oozing down her leg.

…

“Just shut up and give me ten kelpie hooves.”


End file.
